by Lena Fox
And now this. This list.
I stared at the items written out in the little black book. Make love with another woman. Wow, that sounded good. The arousal I’d been fighting since Georgina let me play with her gorgeous breasts came back again with a vengeance.
It wasn’t hard to picture Georgina on her back with her legs spread open, her eyes closed and her hair flung out all across the pillows as another woman licked her thighs, starting low, working her way higher, higher. I could see myself in that encounter too …
“Bloody hell.” Even as a fantasy it was almost too much to bear.
I shook the vision off and splashed my face with cold water in the sink. The journal was personal. I’d only looked inside to identify what it was and why it had appeared on my bathroom floor. It wasn’t right to snoop on her like that.
I closed the book, but that didn’t shut off my thoughts.
I had to wonder why she was doing it. From the list, I understood that she was a virgin and that she wanted to drop that like a lead balloon, but what about the rest of it? The list was new, that was obvious—she’d only gotten to the first item.
Scratch that. Top two items now. Second base was made tonight. She just hadn’t had a chance to cross it off. Bloody Americans and their baseball metaphors.
Second base. I put the journal on top of my dresser and lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about her breasts, how soft they had been in my hands, how her nipples had gotten so hard they’d felt like tiny pebbles between my lips. The way she’d gasped, it was like she’d never felt that way before. Why had she never gotten to second base? She was so sexy I was still hard and aching for her. Surely she’d had other opportunities.
My hand was reaching for my fly, but I groaned and stood up again. I had to go and get that damn sexy list out of my house or I’d be spending the whole next week tossing off. I had dropped her back at the club where her car was, but someone there had to know where she lived.
I grabbed my bike helmet, and opened the front door.
And there she stood.
A light drizzle of rain created a halo of mist around her. The small smile on her face didn’t hide the fear in her eyes. “Sorry, I know it’s really late. I think … I left … something here. I hope you don’t mind me dropping back in but it’s … very important to me.”
I held the journal out to her.
Her face went pale. She reached for the notebook but before she could put her hand on it I asked, “Did you think I was too hot to resist, or did you just grab the first guy interested in tits?”
I had meant it as a joke, but for some reason it came out wrong. It sounded like I was angry. Am I? I’d been used before, and I’d used others before, but never for this, like this. Never as an item on a list. I had no idea how to feel.
Georgina took a long breath. “You read my list?”
She looked so shell-shocked I tried harder to be jovial. “Not that any guy would mind being used by a girl like you.”
She flinched at the word ‘used’. “It’s not like that. Not really. I just … I want to do those things on the list, and you seemed to want to do that thing as well, and you’re pretty much the hottest guy I have ever seen …” Her voice cut off and her cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink.
I wished I could say I was confused, but I wasn’t. I knew how the world worked, just like everyone else. And when I went to the club hoping to see Georgina again, I’d have been lying if I’d said I wasn’t just thinking about sex.
I held the journal back out and she took it. She tucked it under her arm and said thank you so softly I almost missed it.
“I could help you with that list, if you want.” I said it quickly. My brain was still stuck on the idea of her and another woman making love.
“How?” she asked.
How? Well, shit. I hadn’t really thought it through before I just blurted that out. Now I realized I’d basically just offered to be her sex toy. What was a good way to say, ‘Hey, I would love to be between you and another woman’? I sure didn’t know how. I just knew it sounded like a bloody good time.
The awkward silence drew on. She just stood there, soaking wet, staring at me, waiting for an answer. Sweat broke out on my forehead.
Soaking wet …? It struck me then that the rain that had started out as a light drizzle had turned into a full-on gusher. Her black hair was plastered to her face, and beads of water had collected on her long eyelashes. No wonder she was looking at me like I was the world’s biggest jerk. I was too busy trying to lay her to see that she was inches away from drowning.
“Damn. It’s pouring out there. Come inside?”
She glanced at her tiny, bright green hatchback that was sitting in my driveway. I half-expected her to tell me to sod off and be gone again, but instead she took one long step inside the house. I could smell the faded ghost of her light perfume, making me think of blueberries and caramel.
She must have gotten home and changed before coming back. Her pale pink T-shirt was wet and her bra showed clearly against the fabric of it. I stared at it, at the cups and the flesh rising above them for a minute before I remembered my manners. Feeling even more like a tool, I ran down the hall for a towel but all the ones I owned were on the bathroom floor. I did the sniff test on a few of the cleanest dirty towels before deciding that none of them were any good. I had been meaning to get to the laundry for two weeks now, but I’d never been good at keeping chores and housework under control. I caught sight of my unmade bed in the other room. I grabbed a sheet off it, plus one of my old football shirts, and headed back to the living room.
The jeans she had on were as soaked as her T-shirt. They clung to her thighs and hugged the curves of her heart-shaped ass. I paused for a second, staring at her bottom, at the uplifted cheeks neatly bisected by the seam of her jeans. That body … that list … if she agreed to my offer it would be like an open pass, and I imagined ticking the items off. My cock grew so hard so fast I considered going back the other way, but she turned around and saw me so I lost my chance to hide. I held the sheet out in front of me so she wouldn’t see my bulge and I wanted to laugh at the whole situation. This was like being back in high school and dealing with a perma-erection all over again.
I started to dry her off, hoping to give myself time to calm down but touching her, even through the dingy sheet and her wet clothes, was not the best idea. My jeans just got tighter. Out of sheer desperation, I tossed the sheet over her head and let her handle it. If I touched her again I was going to have jeans wetter than hers.
“You never answered my question,” she said as she dragged the sheet off and started drying her hair with it. She was standing in a puddle of water that was getting bigger with each second and not realizing how bloody delicious she looked, demanding to know how I was offering to help with her sex list.
“Well,” I started, trying to be delicate. “You’ll need a man for some of your list, and I’m … a man …”
Fuck.
Chapter Five
Georgina
He really surprised me by saying he could help me with my list. I didn’t know how to reply, so I said the first thing that came into my head: “How?”
I was expecting him to say some lame line like ‘come on in here and I’ll bang you silly’ or something like that, which of course I imagined in his cute British accent. Instead, he just asked me to come in because I was getting soaked on his doorstep.
I kind of hoped he’d say the lame line. I wanted his offer to be an offer for nothing but sex, not an offer of help. That was the last thing on earth I needed—a nice guy who wanted to help me. I’d had enough of nice people who wanted to help me. Some things couldn’t be helped.
After a failed effort to dry me off—sheets aren’t the most absorbent material—he threw the sheet over my head, making me look like the world’s least ambitious ghost. He’d seemed so confident before. Then he developed a very cute stutter when trying to offer to be the man
I have sex with.
I couldn’t help but smile. It was sweet, but I didn’t need sweet right now. I did need a man though, and my faux bravado was sighing in relief at the thought of not having to pick up someone new all over again. Plus, Blake was mind-blowingly handsome. Big bonus there.
I was toweled off a bit and started to pull up my shirt so I could put the dry one on. Blake saw what I was doing and turned his back. For a guy who had just offered to help me do some raunchy stuff, he sure was shy. Or a gentleman. I wasn’t interested in either of those kinds of guys.
I should just leave. Using a nice guy for my list was going to feel a hell of a lot worse than using some jerk.
I undressed quickly, relieved to be out of my wet things, and pulled the shirt over my head. It wasn’t as clean as it could have been but that was okay. I smelled Blake as the sleeves and neck passed by my nose. The earthy yet sweet scent clung in my throat and warmed my chest.
I folded up my wet shirt and dumped it on top of Blake’s clothes, still on top of the other mess on the street sign coffee table. I felt frumpy. The oversized man’s shirt draped like a tent across my breasts. I could see how uneven they were, the surgery having removed just enough from one side that there was a noticeable difference. I hoped it was only noticeable to me. I folded my arms across my middle.
Blake was still looking the other way. I cleared my throat, feeling even more at a loss. “You can turn around.”
Blake turned and looked at me, then quickly sat on the couch like someone had knocked his legs out from under him. He cleared his throat too, and gestured for me to sit as well.
I was wary of the couch this time and sat carefully so I didn’t end up on his lap again. Our knees touched, and a little thrill ran down my spine.
“Can I ask why you made a list like that?” he said.
“Just stuff I want to do. That’s all.”
“But why now?”
“Why does it matter?” I sounded too defensive. I needed to relax and just make it seem like some playful thing I wanted.
“I’m not sure. Maybe it doesn’t. I’m just trying to get to know you. Make sure it wasn’t in response to being treated bad by that very jealous boyfriend I still worry you have hiding behind me.”
He peeked over his shoulder and I cracked a smile.
He had the nicest eyes. They looked out at me from between that thick border of lashes, and my heart gave a squeeze. He would have been perfect, if things were different. But my life was what it was, and The List was important to me for my own reasons. Getting to know each other more was a temptation I had to resist. I had a super-secret invisible armor hidden under my skin, and I bolted it into place. I could almost hear the clicking.
“Do you need to get to know me to do the things on my list?”
“Not really. I’m just curious, is all. I’m not asking because I’m looking for ways to dissuade you.”
Dissuade? Who used words like dissuade in a conversation? Maybe he was doing that thing where you used a new word every day. Like that mature-age student in one of my classes who used the word minutiae four times in a conversation once.
“I’d prefer to keep things casual.”
“Sounds perfect to me.” He grinned as if I’d just taken a load off his mind. Maybe I’d judged him wrong, and he wasn’t the nice guy trying to get to know me. Maybe he was the one-night stand guy who was fishing around to make sure I wasn’t going to be the clingy one. I sure hoped so.
He clapped his hands together once. “Okay, let’s stick to the basics. You want to do the list, and I want to help you. Now, let’s suppose the best place to start would be with you losing your virginity.”
I tensed. I didn’t really expect him to leap across the couch at me but you could never tell. He just sat there looking at me, smiling, but with a small wrinkle of concern near his eyes.
I tried to act blasé. “Doing pretty much any item off my list would cross that one off as well. Two birds, one cherry, and all.”
“You really want to lose your virginity and try out bondage all in one hit? No pun intended. I mean, haven’t you thought about how you want to lose your virginity?”
Not since I was a tween and had all kinds of romantic ideas about what that first time would be like.
It was going to be with Bobby Vaughn, in a room filled with candles, rose petals, and the piano he’d serenade me on before we made love on white satin sheets.
I didn’t have such impractical dreams anymore.
“I was just going to wing it.” I made it sound so matter-of-fact.
“That doesn’t give me a lot to work with. There’s a really wide margin of error here. I mean, what if I went the sex-under-the-stadium-seats-at-a-football-game route and you were really more of a surrounded-by-candles kind of girl. It would totally ruin the experience for you.”
I could see Blake reading my face and knew my inner tween was putting out traitorous signals at the sound of his words.
“I’m really not that fussy,” I said.
“You should be. It’s your first time. We should try and make it special, as much as possible. I’ve got a few ideas already.” I swore his cheeks turned a little pink when he said that. “But you’ve got to give me something to go by. Like, what kind of music do you like?”
“I don’t really know. I mean, I never listened to it much after the summer I turned fifteen and … I’ve just been too busy studying …” I had almost said something I shouldn’t. I buttoned my lips tightly together and stared at the floor between my bare feet.
Insecurity and doubt came back to haunt me. Did he really like me or did he just see me as a chubby girl he could have sex with in all sorts of interesting ways? Did he see me as just the person who was wild enough to write The List?
Why did I care what he thought? He was supposed to be just one more black line across the words on The List.
“Is there really nothing you would like for the big event? I just feel as though you haven’t thought this through. I mean, your list doesn’t even include having an orgasm. That seems like a bit of an oversight.”
“Oh, well, I just thought …” I didn’t know what I thought. I hadn’t even thought of it. I really was in over my head.
“You could get all the way through that list of yours without having a single orgasm. In the wrong hands, of course. Which would be a real shame.”
I raised my eyebrows. “And how are your hands?”
Blake blew out a breath and met my gaze. “I won’t lie. Well-practiced.”
Was he trying to play sex-chicken with me? If he was well practiced, all the better. I didn’t care how many partners he’d had or would have after I was gone. “Okay. I’ll let you help me with my list.”
“I’d be honored to be your guide through uncharted sexual territory.”
“Look, I’m not asking you to wine and dine me. I’m not asking for a friend or a boyfriend. The goal is to mark off all the things on my list—that’s all.”
He paused, assessing me with a confused stare. “Hopefully in an enjoyable way though, right?”
The soft, teasing tone in his voice made a pleasant sensation curl from my tailbone into my spine.
“When do we start?” I asked, my voice rough.
Blake reached to the coffee table and checked his phone. “Damn, it’s late. I mean, not that I wanted to start anything now … I have to work in the morning. How about tomorrow night?”
So soon? Setting a date for the big event made my heart flop against my ribcage. The List Georgina is brave Georgina. The List Georgina says yes, I reminded myself. “Sure, sounds good.”
He gestured to the phone in his hand. “Could I grab your number?”
I hesitated, but figured he might need it while helping me get through my list.
As he typed it in, I stood up and gathered my wet clothes.
Blake stood beside me. “You’re welcome to stay here.”
The temptation to stay was very strong. I could imagine
what it would be like to wake up next to him, feeling his body pressed against mine under crisp morning sunlight. “No,” I said hastily. “Thanks.”
Sleeping next to him implied a level of commitment I didn’t want in my life, that I couldn’t have even if I wanted it. I couldn’t afford to let my feelings get all tangled up in this arrangement. I was doing this for a reason.
Chapter Six
Georgina
I woke up in my own bed. I barely remembered getting home in the early hours of the morning, and the night before felt so dreamlike. But Blake was real, and The List was real, and the two of those things were going to be getting very intimate with each other real soon.
My sheets were cold, and I groaned as I slid out of them. I hated the cold. I really did. I wrapped myself up in a fluffy robe and put on an extra pair of socks before shuffling out to the kitchen.
Julie was already gone for the day. A sprinkle of toast crumbs and a cold cup of coffee sat on the counter. When she was up before me she had a habit of making instant coffee, then not drinking it. She only really seemed to drink coffee when I brewed it. Those were some of the few times we spent together, sipping our coffees at the kitchen counter, smiling together as the rich warmth of it woke us for the day.
I put my vintage percolator on the stove, and while the smell of coffee filled the kitchen I simmered some oatmeal with an obscene amount of honey, blueberries, and cream, which I refused to feel guilty about.
I had stopped eating foods that were fatty, carb-loaded or sugary two years ago when I got serious about losing weight. I saved those things for special occasions, but I didn’t see the point in ‘special occasion’ food now. Every day could be Special Occasion Food Day from now on and really, if there was ever a special occasion, this was it. Later tonight, I would be having sex for the first time.
The full implications of that thought caught me off-guard. I stopped eating with the spoon halfway to my mouth, and a big glob of oatmeal dripped onto the counter. I was going to have sex. With Blake. Tonight. Sex. With a man. His-parts-in-my-parts sex. Tonight. My thoughts looped, short-circuiting.
